


Table For Two

by Sarunkoku



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: ?????/? i dont know what to tag this as, Blood As Lube, M/M, Razors, Shower Sex, i guess??, someone's finally forcing the smelly german to bathe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarunkoku/pseuds/Sarunkoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lawrence hadn't planned on having company for dinner, but he wasn't about to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table For Two

**Author's Note:**

> LAWRENCE IS PROBABLY SO OOC but thats ok since all we've seen of him is like 7 pictures. artistic liberty amiright. Ehehe I wrote this in like 6 hours so the quality is subpar but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://gatoafterdark.tumblr.com/post/148382811790/what-if-lawrence-had-the-upper-hand-against)

Lawrence hadn’t planned on having company for dinner, but he wasn’t about to complain. He put the tea on to brew, and looked back at his noisy guest across the table.

Stringy brown hair framed a stubbled, strong jaw. His tawny-yellow eyes were wide, clenching and unclenching his fists against the duct tape holding his arms to the chair. Half dried blood ran down his forehead, matting his hair and running in his eye. He was making ungodly, wordless grunts at Lawrence, and drool ran down his chin, teeth unwillingly barred due to the cloth gag tightly pulled through his mouth and around to the back of his neck.

Lawrence walked around the table and stopped behind Strade’s chair. Strade craned his neck to keep his eyes locked on, but Lawrence bent down and, pressing his face to Strade’s own, whispered, “Shh, dinner will be ready soon.”

This didn’t seem to soothe him. In fact, he started struggling harder, eyes seething with anger.

Lawrence ran his hand up the side of Strade’s face and softly brushed through his hair with his fingers. The man smelled like he hadn’t showered for at least three days, and his hair was thick grease and dandruff. Lawrence wrinkled his nose. “Maybe… a shower first?”

Strade growled at him.

Lawrence pushed the chair to the bathroom and started up the shower. “Here… lets get these out of the way,” he said, rummaging through a drawer right outside the bathroom, and brought back a pair of scissors. He cut off Strade’s shirt, underwear, and pants, pursing his lips when it came to the fabric stuck under the tape, but decided to just leave it. Then he stripped, and hauled the chair into the shower. Much to Strade’s dismay, Lawrence used a lot of soap and very carefully massaged his hair until it was clean.

Then he brought out shaving cream and a straight razor, slathering the cream all over Strade’s chin and neck. He pushed Strade’s chin up and lowered the razor, but Strade tossed his head.

“Stay still, or else I’m going to-!”

Strade flinched and a small amount of blood trickled down his throat. His throat rippled as he swallowed and looked up at Lawrence.

“See!” Lawrence exclaimed. “I’m trying to help you! Lay still!” He stared at Strade for a moment, then he shrank back, clearly embarrassed by his outburst. He pushed Strade’s jaw back up and pressed the razor to his neck, but his hand was shaking now. He nicked Strade again, eliciting a wince and a forceful snort. He tried to keep going, but only kept cutting Strade. Tiny streams of red joined into rivers trailing a path slowly to his collarbones.

The razor clattered to the shower floor, slicing Strade’s leg on the way down. Lawrence raised a hand to Strade’s neck, smiling softly. “It’s so pretty… He smeared it up Strade’s chin, over the gag and on his face. Strade grabbed at Lawrence with the limited mobility he had, but Lawrence situated himself on Strade’s lap, straddling him. Strade made an alarmed sound and bit at his gag as Lawrence seemed entranced, blushing as he trailed blood down Strade’s chest, through his chest hair, and coming to rest on his nipple.

Strade started snarl when Lawrence pinched it, turning to a guttural groan when he twisted it hard. Then his eyes shot open, whole body going tense. Lawrence had his fingers tangled in the trail of hair on Strade’s stomach leading down to his crotch, and it he was tugging on it. He was still playing with Strade’s now erect nipple, tracing lazy circles around it in blood.

He leaned down to pick up the razor and traced Strade’s areola with the edge. Strade, realizing what was about to happen, fought against his restraints and made frantic noises. Lawrence’s eyes flicked up to Strade’s for a moment, eyes icy cold, and cut into the soft flesh.  
Strade groaned loudly in pain. Lawrence ignored his cries and tugged on the skin, delicately cutting and peeling the small circle of skin until it was fully severed. He held it up for Strade to see.

Rage burned in Strade’s eyes. He was very nearly frothing at the mouth, more drool dripping down his chin. Even so… Lawrence could feel a growing erection under him.

“Are you… enjoying this?” Lawrence asked, almost incredulously.

Strade’s nostrils flared, eyebrows twitching with anger.

Lawrence moved back to bring up Strade’s erection, and ran his finger up the shaft, making Strade shiver. “Heh… you know…” Lawrence kept his gaze down on Strade’s body. “This is the first time I’ve done something like this…” He pressed his and Strade’s dicks together, and slowly stroked them, his other hand on Strade’s shoulder holding the razor.

Strade’s face quickly became flush, shaking and breathing heavier. Bucking his hips to rub himself against Strade, Lawrence let out a shuddering sigh. He lifted his hand to where Strade nipple used to be, and fondled the wound. Strade let out a small grunt, wincing in pain.

Lawrence lowered his bloodied hand to Strade’s cock and stroked it, smearing blood over the tip. He stared for a moment before bringing the razor down as well.  
Strade’s eyes went wild with panic. The razor easily sliced down the middle of the head. Strade threw his head back, scream muffled by the gag. Lawrence trailed it down, carving lines of blood along the shaft. He gathered the blood up on his fingers and rubbed his entrance with it. “It’s my first time…” He gave a soft smile as he lowered himself on Strade. “So be gentle.” Strade made a choking sound, tears welling in his eyes.

He ground hard against Strade, both moaning but for very different reasons. Lawrence leaned forward and pressed his face into the crook of Strade’s neck, rubbing his nose in the sweat dripping down it.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmured against Strade’s skin. “I want to pull you open and spread you out…” He caressed Strade’s stomach. “Such a soft, nice texture…”  
He let out a shuddering breath, swaying back and finding a rhythm that made his vision go white with pleasure when it hit him just right.

Upturned face burning with pleasure, he slowed his rocking hips, savoring every small shiver and twitch of his skin. Pressure building, he stroked his cock, bouncing faster, clumsily as climax came closer- he moaned long and hard, tightening around Strade as he came.

He let out a heavy pant, breathing ragged. Eyes heavy with afterglow, he looked down at Strade. The man was crying, sweating and breathing hard, and hadn’t gotten off. Realizing Lawrence was looking at him, he glowered.

Lawrence pulled himself off with a wet sound and straightened himself. “Ah… damn. The water is probably ready.” Strade stared at him with shock. Lawrence gave him a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some.”

He pulled his sweatpants on and padded off to the kitchen. He came back with a steaming cup of tea. “Here… you’re the guest. You get the first cup.” He drew close, taking Strade’s chin in his hand. “It’s good… Try it.” He poured a small amount through the gag. Strade choked. It burned and it was pungent, trickling down the back of his throat. “Do you like it?” Lawrence poured more into Strade’s mouth, eliciting more coughing and an angry shake of the head.

Lawrence furrowed his brows. Setting the teacup down on the bathroom counter, he leaned down and ran his hand through Strade’s hair. “Do you… really not like it?” He brushed a strand of hair behind Strade’s ear, then untied the gag.

“You goddamn-!” Strade spat, interrupted by more coughing. “What did you-?” He swallowed hard, then again, lipping his lips. His head rolled.

Lawrence picked the scissors back up to cut the duct tape on Strade’s arms and legs. The tattered leftover shreds of clothing and arm hair came off along with it. “I don’t think you should stand up.”

Strade tried to stand up, but fell out of the chair. “Fuck…” He swore softly, excessively swallowing and heaved. He crawled a couple excruciating feet before vomiting on the bathroom floor. “What did you-” He retched again. “...do to me?” His voice was strained. He brought his hand down to his chest, and then to his crotch. He head drooped into the vomit before bobbing back up again.

“I told you.” Lawrence prodded Strade’s ass with his foot and leaned down to help him up. He was heavy, having to use the wall for support even with Lawrence’s help. He guided him back to the kitchen, where he collapsed into a chair. Lawrence left his side to tend to the cooking food.

He tried to stand, but stumbled against the table and fell to his knees. “Verdammte Scheiße…”

“Are you okay?” Lawrence called.

“Fuck you.” Strade replied. “I can’t-” He vomited again.

Lawrence came over and crouched in front of Strade, resting his head in his hand. He had a very sharp looking kitchen knife in the other hand.  
“Verpiss dich,” he sneered weakly. Sweat made a thin sheen on his skin.

Lawrence pushed Strade over and climbed over him. Strade clumsily threw his arms at Lawrence, but were easily pushed aside. Lawrence grabbed Strade’s dick.  
Strade’s eyes opened wide. “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking-”

He screamed as Lawrence cut it off in one swift stroke. Angry, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he frantically turned over and attempted to pull himself away. Lawrence tossed the severed penis to the side, and raked the knife deeply down Strade’s back, turning it into his gut, and reached inside. Strade gasped and writhed, tears burning his eyes. Lawrence pushed him over and cut horizontally across his stomach, then up to his sternum. Blood seeped out, quickly staining both their skin, Lawrence’s sweatpants, and the floor.

Strade half swore and half sobbed at him, writhing as Lawrence peeled back the skin over his stomach and slowly pulled his intestines out, holding them up for him to see. “Look… they’re so pretty.” Lawrence leaned down, hair falling over Strade’s face and praised him softly. “You’re doing such a good job…”

A sob caught in Strade’s throat. He was losing so much blood. Lawrence was mesmerized, taking his sweet time emptying Strade’s abdominal cavity. He savored every organ, touching them softly and admiring them, only vaguely noticing how Strade stopped struggling or how his eyes were glazing over. When he was done, he cuddled up next to Strade, tracing mindless shapes in the blood on his chest.

Strade’s eyes sluggishly rolled toward him, only pure, unadulterated hatred burning in them.

Lawrence lightly tapped on his chest twice and close his eyes. “I know… I’m sorry we missed dinner.”


End file.
